Heat
by artemis-nz
Summary: Misaki hates the heat. Usagi likes taking advantage of it. Usami/Misaki. Lime.


The problem, Misaki thought as he clambered oh so carefully out of bed, taking care not to wake Usagi lest he incur the author's wrath (or his ardour – both of which could be equally as terrifying), was the heat.

He had always dealt far better with the cold; he liked snow, and the feel of warm winter jackets, and the way a scarf would twine, securely, about his neck. He liked how he could see his breath on the air when he walked outside, and the way that, first thing in the morning, parts of the street would nearly glitter under a thin crust of frost.

Summer, on the other hand, clung to him, muggy, stifling, like an unwanted coating. The heat _got_ to him in ways that the cold never did; thick and cloying and _Usagi-san_-

He snorted, disgusted. That particular thought had come unbidden, but it was just typical that something like summer would remind him of Usagi. Both were irritating, clingy, stubborn. In large doses, maddening. It made him exasperated just thinking about it-

Think cold, he told himself, padding quietly out of the room. Think ice, snowstorms, a blizzard.

It didn't work.

Frustrated but undeterred, Misaki decided a shower would do the trick. A _cold_ shower.

It was thus he found himself, moments later, obstinately enduring a freezing cascade of water that had him shivering in seconds, teeth chattering, hands balled into fists at his sides. It crossed his mind that he could have easily been back in bed right now, still napping and blissfully unaware of either the heat or the cold, curled up close next to Usagi-san and-

No. Nonono. He was not thinking that, he was _not_. Scrubbing himself furiously with his hands in an effort to get rid of the goosebumps, reaching for the soap, Misaki attempted to force all such trains of thought from his mind.

Economics. That was a safe topic. Equations. Lots of X's and Y's and formulas. Thick text-books. Mind-problems. He had been stuck on a problem just the other day, in fact, and Usagi-san was smart, so Misaki had asked for clarification, and Usagi had solved the problem and then immediately proceeded to-

"Argh!"

There was no getting away from it, if Usagi could make even a subject like economics seem dirty in his own head. Stupid, perverted old man-

"Misaki!"

Speak of the devil. Usagi's hair was mussed with sleep, his movements jerky, his eyes still heavy-lidded. He moved lethargically and almost clumsily, wandering into the bathroom like he had somehow ended up there accidentally.

"Geez, Usagi-san, can't a guy get his privacy? I'm in the shower, you know?"

"Ugh."

Just what kind of a response was that? "I'll be out in a bit, then you can have the bathroom all you want."

"I never said I wanted the bathroom."

Misaki gritted his teeth. "Then get out."

Usagi's eyes narrowed. "It's my bathroom", he pointed out.

"Fine, then what _do_ you want?" Misaki snapped. God, Usagi-san was getting the better of him already, and it wasn't even eight o-clock.

"Hm. I just wanted to exchange a pleasant good morning. Is that so much to ask?"

"Good morning", said Misaki shortly.

Usagi clicked his tongue, and strode over to open the shower door with never a by-your-leave. "Good-" he started, and then his mouth closed abruptly.

Misaki gazed at him suspiciously. "What?"

"Misaki… the water's cold."

"It's hot out. I don't like the heat."

"No."

"What do you mean, no? I told you, I don't-"

"I mean, that's not the reason." Misaki gulped at the sudden gleam in Usagi's eye. Sure enough, Usagi was looking at him intently, his expression now far from drowsy. He smirked. Misaki froze. "There's only one reason", Usagi practically purred, "for a young man to be taking a cold shower this time of the morning." He glanced further down, pointedly. Instinctively, Misaki followed his gaze. He then took a very rapid back, pressing himself against the furthest wall.

"No! It's isn't- I'm not-"

"Misaki." Usagi's eyes held him up, pinned, like a deer caught in the headlights. "Did you miss me, when I was so busy writing over the last week?"

"I- I-"

Usagi took a step closer, and Misaki shrank into himself, as far away as he could get. "You know, if you wanted attention from me, Misaki, you only needed to ask."

"I did _not_ want attention! I happened to have had a very peaceful few days!"

"There's no need to be ashamed. After all, you are living with the genius author, the great Usami Akihiko himself."

Misaki could not believe the man's arrogance at times. It was annoying – no, more than annoying – it was _infuriating_. His face reddening, Misaki lashed out. "I'll have you know it is a perfectly normal, completely average thing to have… _this_, when guys wake up in the morning! It is a totally uncomment-worthy, common thing to happen!"

A deadly silence filled the air, with only the slow hiss of the water to be heard. Misaki hardly dared breathe.

And then.

"Oh?" said Usagi slowly. His voice was lower than usual as he dragged out the word, like he enjoyed the sound of it dropping from his lips. "This is more than a coincidental occurrence then, I take it?"

"…"

"… We'll have to do something about that."

"N-no, I-!"

"Oh no, too late, far too late, Misaki, to take back your words now. You're always so… _honest_. It's refreshing."

Usagi's hand reached in, his long shirt sleeve dampening as he rotated the shower control to the right.

"Usagi-san!" What had meant to come out as sternly admonishing emerged as closer to a whine. Usagi grinned, aware of what that sound meant. He wore only what he had fallen asleep in; a white business shirt, front and cuff buttons undone, and casual dark trousers. It was the work of a few seconds to remove them, tossing them haphazardly to one side before Misaki could even form the words for his next sentence.

"Usagi-san, what- mmph!"

Usagi kissed Misaki's latest protestation away, roughly. Oh, Misaki had had his chance for Usagi to be gentle if he had only overcome his pride long enough to ask for it – now, Misaki would discover just how determined Usagi himself could be.

He took the soap from Misaki's limp hand; clearly, Misaki had not yet gathered his wits back enough to do anything but weakly protest this latest development. "You missed a spot", Usagi breathed, and he could almost _taste_ the whimper that Misaki was no doubt trying to hold down. Really, he thought, the boy was too bashful for his own good. Well, Usagi could work on that.

Misaki was still pressed against the wall like it would offer him some measure of protection. On the contrary, Usagi preferred it that way, at least for the moment; it meant that Misaki could offer no real resistance as Usagi leaned forwards, one hand placed squarely above Misaki's head, leaning over him, bodies not-quite-touching. Not yet. Expertly, lazily, he began to rub the soap into Misaki's skin, just beneath his neck. Softly for now, feather-light. Ticklish. Misaki shivered, although no longer from the cold. Goosebumps of another kind were rapidly forming down his arms as the soap suds travelled downwards, following the angle of his collarbone.

"U-Usagi-san, I don't…" He trailed off, eyes closing and body pressing into Usagi's caress, betraying him. Still he kept his jaw firmly clenched, not wanting to give Usagi the satisfaction of hearing him groan. This did not seem to bother Usagi in the slightest; he only made a noise somewhere in the back of his throat that sounded suspiciously like a laugh, and lowered his hand. Now the soap was being massaged with only slightly more force over his chest, small, leisurely circles that made Misaki's breath hitch in his chest.

"Usagi-san, s-stop-"

"But I don't want to. And neither do you."

"I-"

Usagi kissed him again, hard, using the distraction to trace his hand lower. Misaki's hips jerked, but Usagi now had him effectively restrained, unable to move. He couldn't quite stop the sound that escaped him; it echoed off the walls, somewhere between a gasp and a strangled moan.

"Enjoying yourself, are you, Misaki?"

"No…" Even to his own ears, his voice sounded ragged.

"Well then. In that case-"

Usagi dropped the soap. Misaki wasn't given the time to work out why; he abruptly found himself pressed even more firmly against the cold surface of the shower wall, Usagi's weight bearing down on him. Their skin slipped against one another's, too smooth by far. Misaki found himself wriggling, unsure whether he was trying once again, futilely, to get away, or to gain further purchase against Usagi himself. And at some point, that demon author must have turned up the heat of the water again, because now Misaki was panting, the streams of water mixing with droplets of sweat.

"Agh…"

"That sounded more promising."

And at Usagi's words, there were suddenly all sorts of noises, undignified sounds, crowding at the back of Misaki's throat and clamouring to be acknowledged. Misaki clamped down on them as best he could, but Usagi knew him too well. He chose that moment to push himself more forcefully against Misaki, creating, finally, the tiniest bit of friction between them. Misaki's eyes shot open. He thrust back involuntarily, a yelp of pleasure finally breaking through his self-imposed wall of control. Smirking, Usagi allowed Misaki to shift against him, wordlessly pleading. He wouldn't give in to those demands yet, though – not until Misaki grew impatient enough, or desperate enough, to ask him.

"Misaki", he goaded him, carefully not moving himself. "You seem a little… agitated. Is there something I can do?"

"N-no, you filthy-" Usagi's hand slithered down, carefully skirting past one specific point, to rest at the top of Misaki's thigh. Misaki quivered in response.

"Ohh… you-!"

"Yes?" Usagi grinned at Misaki's discomfort. His fingers stroked upwards, teasingly, and Misaki was driven to push against him again.

"Please…"

Usagi nearly did not hear Misaki speak; the word was spoken in a husky whisper, leaving Misaki's lips as little more than a gust of air. "Please… what? I didn't quite catch that."

"Nnh! I- I can't-" He threw his head back, exposing his neck fully, as Usagi rewarded his efforts with a playful squeeze. Usagi could not resist what he saw as a blatant invitation. His teeth found their mark, and Misaki cried out. "Please!" he spoke again, much louder this time. His face reddened further at the way that word came out, the delicate blush deepening into a fuller rose, his hands now gripping Usagi's shoulders urgently.

And Usagi knew that he could never truly deny Misaki, _his_ Misaki, anything. He drew Misaki's closer to him, both hands now instinctively moving to cover Misaki's wrists. Misaki was trembling, his skin flushed with heat. Usagi toyed with him a little more, feeling playful. Seeing Misaki truly _want_ him like that, unable to hide his desire, his body surging to meet Usagi's own- it made him desire Misaki all the more, made him want to claim him once again as his own. He wanted to hear his name, torn from Misaki's mouth, reverberate around the room.

So he stroked Misaki for as long as he dared, knowing him intimately, familiar with exactly how much would be too much for Misaki to take without letting go completely. And all the while, he took his own pleasure in how Misaki called out to him, each sound growing gradually more frantic, more unrestrained. When Misaki clung to him, almost sobbing now, Usagi's name finally departing from his lips with a wail, Usagi finally met him fully, entering him, their limbs locking together in a crushing embrace.

Misaki's legs gave way from underneath him as frenzy give way to a dizzying release. Usagi held him up a moment, before gasping out his own fulfilment and allowing both of them to slowly sink down, still clutching each other, to the ground.

They remained there for a while, sprawled carelessly across one another – Misaki doing his utmost to regain control over his breathing, Usagi still basking in the warm glow of satisfaction.

"Usagi… I…"

Misaki had always struggled with his words when it came to showing his deeper feelings. Usagi did not particularly care. To hear that Misaki loved him would be, he felt, the greatest pleasure he could ever hope to attain. But it was enough, for now, that Usagi knew Misaki did love him, despite his hesitancy in saying so. And Usagi had a strong hunch that Misaki knew this, and therefore did not try to deny it.

Besides – unlike Misaki, Usagi was much better at waiting.

So he simply kissed Misaki again, gently this time, preventing his lover's halting words and offering his own. "Misaki. I love you, Misaki."

He left the bathroom after Misaki, still red-faced and stammering, had more or less shoved Usagi from the shower, mumbling something about having to change the soap. Usagi accepted this turn of events with comparative grace, only running a hand lightly through Misaki's hair before exiting. Plenty of time yet, plenty of opportunity (and he could not help but smirk again, considering all the sheer possibilities), for love confessions later on.

Dried and mostly dressed, he sauntered quietly to his office, where he retrieved a notepad from one of the bottom drawers of the desk. To Misaki's credit, it taken Usagi much longer than expected. _Shower_, he crossed out with a pen, regarding the rest of his list with enthusiasm. Amazing, really, that for all Usagi's unquestionably vigorous sex drive, there were still a few places left to go before he would have to come up with some more… innovative ideas. Where to aim for next?

Back in the shower, Misaki suddenly sneezed, his body tingling with a kind of foreboding sixth sense – as though Usagi was planning something terrible. He prayed it was just a normal sneeze, but decided it was better to be safe than sorry.

Misaki hurriedly turned the water temperature back down a notch.


End file.
